She's a Machine
by Kiki Cabou
Summary: Pepper Potts is no hero. Seriously, ask anybody. Well, except Tony Stark. And I guess Jim Rhodes, too. Yeah, don’t ask those guys. Movieverse. Smidge of TS/PP.
1. Eyes of Blue

**Disclaimer**: No.

**Blame This Whole Thing On**: Robert Downey Jr. He did such a great job with Tony Stark that I kind of got obsessed with Iron Man and felt the need to add something to the pile. To be fair, I also blame Gwyneth Paltrow and Terrence Howard, who rock just as hard as RDJ and brought Pepper and Rhodey to life. Kisses, peeps. Keep up the good work.

**Rating**: T, for cursing and violence.

**Spoilers:** The movie.

**Hello**: to the Iron Man fandom. Tell me there's chips and guac, 'cause I brought the Bohemia. Let's party!

**Note**: The screwball/comic book-ish elements of this piece are nods respectively to the 2005 film _Kiss Kiss Bang Bang_ (hilarious) and the Pulitzer-prize winning novel _The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay _(a must-read). Also, for those of you unfamiliar with the phrase, calling someone "a machine" means that you have met a person of uncommon determination, efficiency, and endurance.

**SHE'S A MACHINE**

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Chapter One__: Eyes of Blue_

Tony Stark was at a loss. Not only was he at a loss, he was at a loss with a song at least twice his age stuck in his head, a result of allowing Jarvis to pick his work music for a few hours yesterday (never to be repeated). This mostly explained why he was wandering around his Malibu mansion at 9 AM on a Tuesday in torn jeans and a black wife-beater, grease on his elbows and cheeks, singing the opening refrain of an old Ray Henderson tune and calling for his personal assistant.

"_Five foot two, eyes of blue, but oh, what those five feet could do, has anybody seen my girl?_" Tony sang softly and tunefully, rubatos and glides and all. "Pepper?" he called.

No answer. He kept walking, checking a closet, peeking down a hall, circling the living room, whistling the second verse because he had forgotten the words, and then kind of improvising the instrumental break. But the bridge he remembered.

"_So if you run into, a five-foot-two, covered in furs_," he sang, "_Diamond rings, and all those things_ … Miss Potts?"

Nothing. His call echoed in the empty house. Undeterred, he searched on.

"… _Bet your life it isn't her_ … _but_ … _could she love, could she woo, could she, could she, could she coo, has anybody seen my girl?_"

He was standing in the kitchen by the time he finished the tune, fists on his hips, disgusted. "God damn it. Jarvis, where's Pepper?"

"As I was trying to tell you before you left on your wild goose chase, Mr. Stark," the AI answered crisply, "Infrared Scan shows she is not on the premises."

Tony tried to think. She'd left last night around seven and hadn't said anything about not showing up this morning. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Call her cell phone."

Jarvis did as requested and a speaker next to the fridge began to ring. Tony hopped up on the center island. He listened and scratched an itch just behind his left ear.

The phone rang. And rang.

And rang.

And Tony's imagination, unfortunately as powerful as the rest of his brain, burst the dam and flooded the town. By ring five with no answer he was completely submerged in the dime-novel contrivance he kept in the back of his head. It went like this: Pepper's phone would be picked up (eventually) by some hateful stranger with raspy breathing who would taunt Tony with Pepper's capture and imprisonment, forcing him to don the Iron Man suit and save his lovely assistant, who he would find tied to the steeple of a skyscraper, screaming her head off for him to rescue her.

It was really stupid. He knew this of course, and he had never voiced this particular fantasy for that very reason. Pepper would murder him if she heard herself cast in the role of the helpless female, Rhodey would laugh him off the planet, and all it meant anyway was that he had read way too many comic books.

He was still unduly relieved when he heard the click of someone picking up.

"Pepper?" he asked preemptively.

"Unnh?" came Pepper's voice, scratchy and throaty on the other end.

Just the sound of her made something loosen inside him and his shoulders, which he didn't even realize he'd been tensing, released themselves. He blew out a breath. _Thank God._

"Pepper, it's uh, it's Tony. Listen, you don't sound so good. Are you sick? What's going on? Why aren't you here?" He knew immediately that he'd asked way too many questions at once – yet another annoying side-effect of being a genius – but if she could just answer _one_ of them, then they were in business.

"Tony? Oh no," she rasped. "Time izzit?"

He checked his watch. "9:15 AM."

"Oh Tony, I'm … sorry. I'll be on to wee … oh … uh…"

Tony stared at the speaker while she gibbered maybe-words and finally just trailed off. Pepper's brain wasn't firing right this morning; it sounded like one of her cylinders was out of whack. And then he realized what was going on, and he closed his eyes in disbelief. The slow, stop-stutter cadence of her voice. The pauses. The croak.

Pepper Potts wasn't sick. She was hung over. Like, _really_ hung over.

Having pulled this act one too many times himself, he had enough sense to realize that even though he was disappointed and angry with her for worrying him, showing that would be the wrong move. This was probably the ideal moment for him to say something sensitive, maybe even ask what was going on. He knew that. Unfortunately he was having a tough time getting beyond any phrase that didn't include the words "What the fuck is the matter with you?" so in the end, there was very little to say. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Okay Pepper, you know what? Just sleep it off. Come in tomorrow and we'll talk. Jarvis, disconnect."

The line went dead and the speaker hushed. Tony sat there on the island for a moment and gently swung his legs, bouncing his heels off a drawer. He sighed. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why Pepper had gone drinking A) without him and B) on a Monday night. It was wholly unprofessional, and beyond that, it was so not her. It made no sense.

His eyes drifted to the right. Two pages of the calendar magnetized to the sleek silver refrigerator rustled gently from the air conditioner, which Jarvis had just turned on. He narrowed his eyes and hopped off the island, padding over so he could survey the month up close. He tapped yesterday with one grease-stained finger, over and over. Something about that date was tickling at him, and for a long moment he just couldn't make the connection … when suddenly it clicked.

He dropped his arm. "Oh, no. Oh, _shit_," he spat out. "I forgot her birthday." Pause. Wince. "Again."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Somehow he survived without her for a whole day. Well, technically it was only 12 hours, and yes, he missed a really important meeting with some Japanese development company because he couldn't get to his PDA in time for it to remind him, and he went tie-less to a luncheon with some mucky-muck from the Air Force because he couldn't remember where his ties even _were_ in his enormous closet, and he got caught with his pants down by a Congressman from Mississippi who was really angry about some dust-up at a factory of his in Jackson that he hadn't even heard about, but nevertheless, he noted he was still alive at the end of it and gave himself a pat on the back.

That didn't mean he was eager to try it again, though. The next morning when Pepper padded quietly into his basement lab, prim and proper in her tailored brown suit and matching heels, bearing his morning espresso, the newspaper and a thick manila folder, the first thing out of his mouth was …

"Oh, thank God. I seriously do not ever want to repeat yesterday, Potts. Understand?"

It came out a little more caustic than he would have liked, but she just nodded. "Yes, sir. Thanks for letting me take the day yesterday, Mr. Stark. I promise nothing like that will ever happen again. One time thing. You're clear today until noon, by the way." Her words were quiet and soft, completely controlled, and she gave him that pleasant little Mona Lisa smile. Then she set his coffee down, put the newspaper down next to the coffee … and walked away, like the past 24 hours hadn't happened.

Tony was stunned. Fortunately he shook it off and found his voice before she reached the stairs. "Oh, hell no. No way. Pepper, you stop right there."

He had a good command voice. Pepper stopped with her back to him. He came up behind her and put and hand on her elbow. She stiffened. He rolled his eyes.

"I want to talk to you."

She didn't move.

"It would help if you turned around."

From his rear view, he could see her shoulders lift and fall as she took a calming breath. He could almost imagine her features settling into their usual professional mask as she tried to steady herself. Something was seriously wrong here, his brain screamed at him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. When she turned around, his imagination had proven him right. There wasn't an ounce of expression on her pretty face.

"Yes, Mr. Stark? What is it you wished to discuss?"

Her tone was way too even; Tony wasn't buying this for a second. He crossed his arms and looked up at her slightly, which annoyed him further. As much as he wished Pepper was a dainty, willowy little thing, she was actually a dainty, willowy _tall_ thing. In stocking feet he only had an inch on her and in heels, forget it.

"Take off your shoes," he ordered.

That caught Pepper off guard. She let her mask slip and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You heard me. Give those things a break." He snapped his fingers. "Come on, right now."

Pepper grumbled and protested but obeyed, doing her flamingo impression while she tried to get her heels off. Tony gave her his arm to steady her, and eventually she was standing in her stockings on the cold cement floor and they were eye to eye.

"That's better," he said. "Now talk to me."

"About what?" she stubbornly asked.

"Don't even," he said sharply. When Pepper crossed her arms and looked away, he softened. "Oh, come on, Pep. What's going on? You left me high and dry yesterday. I think I deserve an explanation."

It seemed that honestly minus melodrama plus brevity equaled results. Pepper looked horribly uncomfortable, but in the end she answered him. "I only meant to have one drink. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, I –"

"Call me Mr. Stark one more time today and I'll fire you."

She met his eyes and pressed on. "Tony. Look, I know you don't remember, because I've done my utmost not to remind you, but the day you were captured last year … was my birthday. And yesterday I was just messed up inside, and I figured you wouldn't notice, and…" She shut her mouth and looked down, and her jaw ticked.

There was a long silence as Tony worked his way through that.

"First of all, when it comes to you, I definitely … try … to notice." They exchanged a look – his apologetic, hers wry – and he went on. "And I'm sorry you were upset yesterday. I should have done something, or at least said 'Happy Birthday.' I blew it, and – look, just please tell me you didn't get wasted alone at some dive."

Pepper looked up at him. "All right, I didn't get wasted alone at some dive," she said flatly.

Tony stared at her. "Are you kidding me? Has being around me taught you nothing? First of all, if you're going to get bombed in public, always have a wingman. Always. And second … well, I can't think of anything else right now. How the hell did you get home, anyway?"

"I walked," she said miserably. "Alone. It took me an hour."

Tony rubbed his hair back and shook his head. "Oh, man. Look, Pepper, you can't do stupid things like this. I'm sorry, but you just can't. Doing stupid things is _my_ job." Pepper looked down at the floor and bit her lip. Tony wandered over to his desk as he continued. "_Your_ job is to hold me together," he went on, straightening some papers. "If you fuck up too, then our whole system falls apart. Capiche? … Pepper?"

She didn't answer him. When he looked over at her again, her ropey ballerina shoulders were knots of tension and she was desperately pressing a hand under her nose and looking up at the ceiling, her big blue eyes glassy with tears. She sniffed and tried to wipe them surreptitiously, but with Tony staring at her like a problematic circuit board, even he couldn't miss it.

"Damn it," she said in a choked voice, and turned away with a gasp that exploded into a shudder.

And he was frozen for a second. Pepper was crying. This was really bad. He did the only thing that made sense – walked right up to her and took her in his arms, figuring she'd either find this comforting or snap out of her funk and smack him. Fortunately she picked the first one, wrapping her arms right back around him.

"Hey, hey," he mumbled. "It's all right."

She breathed wetly into his shoulder. "God, this is embarrassing. I'm sorry, Tony. It's just, you went away, and you were gone for months, and then you came back, which was some kind of miracle, and now you have that suit, and then you built one for Jim, and … it scares me."

"You're afraid of the suit?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because it ends up with bullet holes," she said simply. "And missile burns."

Tony frowned. He felt an inexplicable need to defend his work. "Hey, I fixed those problems. Mostly. It's okay now."

"Yeah, well, it still creeps me out a little," she argued. "And I know you fly off into war zones voluntarily, and I know why, and I can't make you stop, and I'm not asking you to, but … I don't know."

They stayed in the embrace until their fronts felt warm and Pepper's tears on his shoulder dried into a salty spot.

"Hmm," he said at last. Then he released her. "Feel better?"

She wiped one eye. "Yes, actually."

"Okay, then," he said quietly.

And that was it. He stepped back and nodded, she stepped back and nodded, and the unspoken agreement to never mention this again was agreed on.

Neither of them had ever been good at putting a proper cap on things like this, so Pepper just left. She picked up her shoes on the way out and jogged up the stairs so she could repair her make-up in the guest bathroom on the first floor. And Tony stayed, flopping down in his plush desk chair and mulling over her statements, particularly the one about being afraid of the suit.

"Well, we're all basically afraid of the unknown," he mused to himself as he glanced thoughtfully at the 3D hologram work area, empty at the moment. And then his eyes narrowed. "But if we get some working knowledge on our side… Hmm." Pepper's admission had just given him a brilliant idea. "Jarvis, bring up image file 38789 in the cube. I want to start a new project."


	2. Victoria's Secret Identity

_Chapter Two__: Victoria's Secret Identity_

Five days after The Conversation, Pepper was sitting at her desk at 7:13 PM (according to her laptop's clock) typing out yet another e-mail, blouse slightly untucked, shoes MIA. She was working late in one of two luxurious offices in the mansion, a classy space lined with windows that overlooked the Pacific and some of the mainland. Fred and the bright Gerber daisies on her desk were her only company at the moment. The daisies had shown up mysteriously this morning in an expensive vase with no note – which meant they were from Tony, mystery solved – but Fred was a staple.

Just staring around was enough to break her concentration mid-sentence. So she stood up for a stretch and wandered over to the tank. She crouched before the glass and smiled. Fred spotted her. Delighted at the attention, he swerved from his usual route and engaged her, transforming instantly from a red-gold-spotted circle to a peachy-colored line with delicate lacy fins and black eyes positioned like headphones. He bumped into the glass and made blurpy water talk at her. Fred loved people in general and Pepper especially. He was an elderly discus fish, a Red Pigeon Blood to be precise, that she'd had for six years. As old as he was, he was still her baby.

"Hi Fred," she said, and waved.

Fred blurp-blurped at her again, but suddenly he got startled and darted behind his favorite rock, leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake. She frowned. Then a throat cleared _way_ too close to her and she yelped, whipping around with a hand splayed across her blouse.

"Oh! _God_, Tony!"

Tony, towering over her in socks and the remains of his business suit, looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Um, I got this for you."

And he held out a distinctive pink striped bag by its silver yarn handle. Victoria's Secret. She stood up and eyed it cautiously. Then she looked at him with a challenge in her gaze.

"If that's kinky underwear, so help me, you'll be wearing that bag as a hat."

Tony knew when to take her threats seriously and now was not it. He laughed. "It's only kinky if you're imaginative. But it _is_ an undergarment, thus the bag. Here."

He handed it over. Pepper took it. Peered in. Pulled out a forest-green _something_ and looked flummoxed. "What is this?"

"Just put it on and come down to my shop, Miss Potts," he instructed, striding for the exit.

Pepper began to investigate the thing in her hands, intensely curious and puzzled. It was made of some odd substance and felt almost like a scuba suit, but not quite. It was a little stretchy.

"Oh, and Miss Potts?"

She started again and looked up. Tony was hanging in the doorway by one hand, like he'd forgotten something.

"Mr. Stark?" she responded warily.

"Happy Birthday," he said. And he winked.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pepper crept down to the shop some minutes later, arms folded protectively over her chest and padding along self-consciously in the contents of the Victoria's Secret bag: a skin-tight forest green bodysuit that covered her from neck to toe. She uncrossed one arm so as to enter her code for the shop and stepped in, automatically lowering the level of Tony's music. He glanced up from his computer station and smiled at her. Then he held out his arms like "Ta dah! We match!" She saw that he wore a bodysuit like hers, only jet black, and smiled back politely.

"Hey," he said warmly.

"Hi."

She glanced around, having correctly assumed that there was more to her birthday present than the bodysuit, but she didn't see any obvious presents hanging around Tony's cement bunker of a shop. The resident mechanical engineer cleared his throat and pulled out his best "casually authoritative" voice, the one he generally reserved for board meetings.

"Well, Miss Potts, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here."

"Lil' bit," she agreed.

"You are here," he explained, "Because I have created something for you. I'm hoping that if you get to know it, 'shake hands with it,' so to speak, then … hopefully … you'll be a little less afraid of what it is … I do."

Pepper blinked at him. "What?"

"See, Jarvis, I knew that was too opaque," Tony complained to the ceiling. "Last time I take your advice on stuff like this." He stood up and walked over to her. "Sorry, Pepper. Okay, here's the deal. I made you something for your birthday. And if it's not the coolest birthday present _ever_, then I seriously don't know what is, so you'd better like this. C'mere, gimme your hand."

Pepper eyed him skeptically. "Tony…" she warned, but she let him take her by the hand and lead her to the center of the floor, where a big white grid was laid out on a black background. She noticed two small ovals to her right and settled into a stance on them, looking down at the funny feet of her suit, which separated the big toe from the other four. She'd seen Tony suit up (and down) many times, and they were standing in the exact same spot, so she already had some idea of what was going to happen to her. But the look of delighted anticipation on her boss's face made her shut her mouth against her suspicions. He was so cute when he got like this; she didn't want to ruin his fun.

"Okay," he said with a grin, "First the important stuff. Jarvis?" The floor before Pepper split open and a pair of nearly disassembled boots rose up to meet her. Tony gave her his hand for balance. "Step in. … Good, now hold out your arms. … Good. All right, now close your eyes, and hang on to your hat. Hit it, Jarvis!"

"Yes, sir," the AI replied. "Miss Potts, please do your utmost to stay still."

Pepper had never been really good with surprises. To her credit, she didn't move, as per Jarvis's order, but she did peek, which was a big mistake. The grid around her exploded into a million different pieces and mechanical arms came down out of the ceiling and up from the sudden caverns on her right and left, all bearing unidentifiable bits of metal and hydraulics. They aimed themselves straight for her and bore down like incoming aircraft; she squeaked in terror and squeezed her eyes shut. There was a lot of whirring and clanking, drilling noises, a slight tightening sensation all over her and the thunderous quaking of heavy machinery, but no pain, thank goodness, and then …

"Pepper, you can open your eyes now," Tony said from her left. He sounded a little amused.

She blinked. She felt a little taller and broader somehow, and she could tell that she was totally encased in something very strong and protective. But rather than feel restricting, it was perfectly comfortable, like a second skin. There was definitely a helmet on her head and she felt the gentle press of padding against her chin and cheeks, and when she held up her hands for inspection she saw that they were covered in metallic gloves, painted a shimmering forest green that would have looked quite awesome on a car. She turned to Tony in wonder.

He nodded in approval. "Good thing you helped me test that body scanner a few months ago. I saved your file and used it as a blueprint for this," he explained. "It looks perfect. How does it feel?"

She blinked. "Incredible," she said. "I'm sure it's like, crazy heavy, but it's like I'm not wearing anything! Well, I mean, not nothing, you know, but it's like I'm – I'm floating in here." She couldn't help her excitement, or her smile, and it seemed that both were contagious because now he was grinning too. "Tony, this is …"

"Supercool?" he asked eagerly.

She gave him one of those beatific, yes-you-are-a-good-boy smiles. "Supercool," she agreed.

He looked even more pleased with himself, if that was possible. "Oh, just wait 'till I show you how to fly it," he promised. "Okay, shoo for a second. I gotta suit up. Jarvis?"

"On your mark, sir."

"Wait a second, it _flies_?" Pepper asked as she clumsily moved away from the still disassembled floor space. "Does it have weapons, too?" she added with consternation.

But Tony was suiting up and ignoring her. She frowned. Seeing as she wouldn't get an answer out of him for at least a minute, she stumble-clanked over to the holo-box to give him some privacy.

"Miss Potts?" Jarvis asked. He raised his volume so he could be heard over the whirring and whining of the machines that were suiting Tony up. "Would you like to see how you look in the suit? Mr. Stark has outdone himself, I think."

Pepper bit her lip. On the one hand it was probably stupid to indulge him – or herself, for that matter – and she knew that. But on the other hand, she was very curious, and he'd gone to all this trouble… "Sure."

"Very well," Jarvis said.

In a flash, the holo-box transformed into a mirrored surface, and Pepper got her first look at herself.

Her suit was more graceful-looking than Tony's, and it reflected her physique; it had recognizable hips, breasts (thankfully nipple-free), and smaller shoulders. It was also powered by an arc reactor in the middle of the chest, but instead of Tony's circle, hers was a triangle. And the color scheme was quite different. She was secretly pleased at this; as soon as those robotic arms had started to whir, she'd begun to wonder if she would step back from the platform looking like an Iron Man clone. But her suit was predominantly sparkly forest green with silver accents, in the exact same way that his suit was red and gold.

Slowly, with a pressurized hiss, the gleaming silver faceplate of her suit came down to meet the chin with a click. She was complete. She cocked her metallic head at her mirror image. The face of her suit was modeled after Tony's, but the eyeholes were slightly larger and the chin was smaller, giving it a gentler, more womanly appearance. She brought up one green gloved hand to touch her cheek.

"Amazing," she murmured.

She was still admiring Tony's work when Iron Man, hulking and polished to a shine, wandered over and stood proudly behind her in the mirror. He put his hand on her shoulder with a quiet clank.

"Beautiful," he said softly. Then he cleared his throat and commanded, "Jarvis, bring Miss Potts on-line."

"Yes, sir." The suit lit up inside, to Pepper's surprise, and suddenly Jarvis was in her ear. "Hello, Miss Potts. Are you reading me?"

Pepper gasped. Glowing blue readings flitted across the Heads-Up Display, lighting up different objects in the room as Jarvis got everything ready. "Y-Yes, I'm reading you."

"Excellent," the AI replied cheerfully. "Mr. Stark is going to show you some basics. Follow his instructions to the letter, and I am right here if you need me."

"O-Okay," Pepper distractedly agreed. She was a little caught up in the thrill of the blue numbers and the exquisitely clear vision field of the HUD, not to mention getting a close look at Iron Man – a phenomenal engineering achievement who also happened to be pretty easy on the eyes – so Jarvis's words didn't quite register for a bit. Tony took her by the hand again with a slight metallic squeak and led her back over to the floor grid. It had reassembled itself seamlessly into a flat surface. They clanked their way to a halt right in the middle of it.

"_All right_," he said, and his voice came out electronically magnified and slightly altered. It was a little gruffer than usual. "_Pepper, you ready?_" he asked.

"_Huh?_" Pepper's word came out equally amplified, and the juxtaposition of her commanding voice and her clueless question made Tony laugh.

"_I asked if you were __**ready**_," Iron Man teased. The red-gold suit tapped the green-silver one on the forehead with one metallic finger. "_Need a bit of focus here, Potts. Is that too much to ask?_"

Iron Woman looked almost embarrassed. "_Sorry, no, it's not too much. I'm just a little … sorry._" Pepper's whoosh of breath was amplified, too. "_Okay, I'm ready. What are we doing?_"

"_Flying_," Tony announced gleefully, and he was off and babbling before she could protest. "_Okay, so this thing_," he said, taking her green-gloved hand and spreading her fingers so that she could see the circular glass contraption in her palm, "_Is called a flight stabilizer. It can be used for lots of stuff, but the first thing you're going to learn to do with it is steer. Well, right after you learn how to take off, of course._" Pepper stared at him. "_Jarvis? 2.5 percent power for both of us. Pepper? Take my hand. Come on._"

They joined hands in the center of the floor.

"_In three. Two. One._"

With a blasting roar, the thrusters on their boots fired and both of them rose to hover about six feet the air.

Pepper squealed and flailed her arms, and Tony cackled at her reaction. But he didn't let go of her hand until she was dead steady.

"_Okay_," he coached, setting his hands at his sides. He fired his right gauntlet at low power and gently drifted to the left, where he stopped on a dime and hovered so he could wait for her. "_Just copy me. Give it your best shot._"

"_Here goes nothing,_" she said. She wasn't quite sure how to actually fire her flight stabilizer, so she figured maybe it was a voice-command. "_Um, flight stabilizers, __**go**__!_"

Sadly, Pepper had no idea how seriously Jarvis took English grammar. The plural was her undoing. She accidentally fired both of her hand thrusters at once and got knocked sideways with a scream. The boot thrusters compensated for this and blasted her forward in an attempt to right her, and she careened smack into Tony with _another_ scream, knocking them both into the wall. They slid down to the floor in a clanking heap. He threw an arm around her. She was silent and shaken; he was hooting with laughter as his mask flipped up.

"Damn, Pepper! What the hell did you do? The steering runs on biofeedback, by the way. You don't need to say anything special to fire your stabilizers. … Are you all right?" he asked, manually unlocking her faceplate to get a look at her. "Do you need an ice pack?"

Pepper groaned. "No, I don't, and maybe you could have _mentioned_ that thing about the biofeedback before I knocked us both on our butts?" She gently extricated herself from his grip so she could stand. When she faced him, glittering proudly in his latest creation, Tony smiled and took a second to feel incredibly lucky as he stood up to join her. There was determination in her stance, dangerous curves in her figure and fire in her voice. For a brief moment, nothing on earth was sexier. "All right, come on," she said firmly, clunking over to the launch pad again. "I want to get this right. Let's give it another try." And she clicked her faceplate shut again.

Tony was delighted. She was at least halfway hooked and most importantly, much less afraid. "Yes ma'am," he said with a mock-salute. "Jarvis, increase thrust to 4 percent."


	3. Fiendish Scoundrels

_Chapter Three__: This Must Be the Work of Fiendish Scoundrels_

Tony squinted through his shades at the peach stucco façade of the Admirals' Club. The immaculate gold letters of the sign winked in the noonday sun. He passed right by. It was bright and breezy, perfect Malibu weather, the street was practically empty, and his actual destination was about four blocks away. The Stark Industries grapevine had been crackling lately about The Crab Shack, an under-the-radar joint right here in Malibu that boasted a skuzzy exterior, famously grumpy waiters and the best seafood south of the Bay. Therefore, he and Jim Rhodes were walking in its general direction.

Jim's duties as an Air Force colonel had recently escalated into a week of overwhelming mayhem, so he was taking a well-deserved sick day and playing hooky. Pepper, hearing of this, had cleared Tony's schedule for five hours so they could have some "guy time." And when Tony figured out what she'd done, he'd ordered her to take the rest of the day off, and not return home without a decent-sized shopping bag that contained at least one pair of ridiculously overpriced shoes. She left at eleven that morning with a smile and a quiet, "Thank you, Mr. Stark," and soon after, Tony called Jim and announced that he was dragging him out here for a little R&R in the form of good tap beer and fresh buttered lobster. Then he called Happy and gave him the day off, and went to pick up Jim himself in the R8.

And here they were. Both men were windblown and ruddy-cheeked, completely at their ease as they strolled down the street. The proof was in the jeans (Tony's holey and Jim's spotless) and the t-shirts. Tony had wrapped an ace bandage over his arc reactor to hide the glow and thrown on his absolute favorite, a faded brown one that read, "National Sarcasm Society – Like We Need Your Support." He topped it with a blazer to at least give the impression of being put-together. Jim ambled along next to him, enjoying the sun, hands in his pockets. He wore a smirk-worthy number under his bomber jacket that proudly announced "Wingman" in silver letters, with three stylized jets taking off. Tony had given it to him last year.

Jim had yet to get the joke. "So how's she doing with it?" he asked.

"She flies like a bird," Tony said proudly.

It had been two weeks since he'd taken Pepper up those first terrifying six feet of air, but since then, whenever she'd worked from the mansion she'd been going on "coffee breaks" – i.e. sneaking off to fly around in her super suit – on a regular basis. Jarvis had the security tapes to prove it. Tony wasn't mad, though. Far from it. She still got all her work done, she was clearly enjoying herself, and he was getting a kick out of the whole thing. In fact, the first time he saw her zip past the living room window and soar out over the Pacific, taking care not to fly too high (safety first!), he had to pretend _very_ hard at dinner that nothing was amiss. It was sort of a miracle she hadn't caught him smiling into his Chinese take-out.

"You should see her," he went on. He'd made sure to catch Jim up on the ride over here, informing him about the birthday present and Pepper's progress. Since his best friend piloted the gleaming War Machine armor, it was only fair that he know about all this. "It's beautiful."

Jim smiled. "What kind of capabilities does the suit have?" He figured this was a rhetorical question – no way would Tony build something for Pepper that could be dangerous.

"Oh, ya know, this n' that," Tony shrugged. "Flight, super-strength, flares, chest cannon, arm cannons, missiles, targeting system… Don't worry, she doesn't know to access any of the really crazy stuff –"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Jim interrupted, stopping them both cold. "Hold up. Arm cannons? _Missiles?_ Are you kidding me?"

Tony looked at him, completely nonplussed. "No, I'm not kidding. What's the problem, Rhodey?"

Jim stared. "What's the problem?" he repeated in disbelief, shuffling into an at-ease stance and putting his hands on his hips. "Tony, she's a civilian. She's your _assistant_, man, not a soldier! She has no training to handle firepower like that."

"Hey, neither do I," Tony pointed out.

_No such thing as a free lunch_, the colonel thought as he closed his eyes, _'Cause there's free aggravation while you wait._ "It's a little different with you. You know that," he explained patiently, trying to keep his cool. "You built the thing. You know how to use it responsibly. Plus, you have a top gun pilot, namely _me_, flying another thing you built."

"So?"

Jim gritted his teeth for a second. "_So_, you and I know how to take care of business in those suits. Pepper. Does. Not." When Tony failed to react, he shook his head in disgust. "Dude, you are unbelievable. What the hell were you thinking?"

Tony speared him with a glare. "Well, let's see. I was thinking that missiles are good for repelling bad guys, and Pepper should have some, because I refuse – shut up," he cut in when Jim tried to speak, "I refuse to let someone important to me fly around in a shiny, attention-attracting suit without any way of defending herself. You know as well as I do that she's safer for it. You would take that away from her?" He pulled out his own brand of slightly overdone disappointment. "I am appalled, Rhodey. Just appalled."

Jim puffed up indignantly at the notion that he somehow didn't have Pepper's safety in mind, and said the first thing that occurred to him. "You're a fucking idiot."

Tony crossed his arms. "Oh yeah? Bring it, sky pussy. Come on."

But Tony and Jim had known each other for so long that stupid insults like these had lost their kick. More words weren't necessary anyway; they'd each said their piece, and now a silent stare-off would determine the victor. It went on for a good minute and a half while Tony postured and Jim glared and it eventually ended in a draw, because Jim's stomach burbled loudly enough for Tony to hear and they looked sheepishly at each other. The high ranking military officer shook his head in embarrassment, the CEO of Stark Industries smoothed down his wrinkled t-shirt, and they continued on their way.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Tony teased. "Come on, let's go get some grub. I didn't get breakfast."

Jim rolled his eyes, but shut his mouth for the moment and went along with it. They walked in silence towards the seafood joint. Tony was staring straight ahead, hunting for the place. Jim glanced all around while thinking furiously about Pepper's suit, which, come to think of it, he had yet to see. Maybe after a few drinks he could convince Tony to make some modifications to the damn thing.

They were fifteen feet from the restaurant … when suddenly they weren't.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pepper twirled before the full-length mirror in Just Cavalli at the Beverly Center while a perfectly coiffed young man, ruthlessly pressed into his lightweight sweater and slacks, walked over to her with a few more dresses. She'd been so preoccupied with shopping that she'd put off lunch, and it was now 3 PM so her stomach was trying to get her attention by growling. She ignored it and shot herself a narrow-eyed, come-hither look in the mirror. The sales associate gave her an appraising glance and said "Rowr!" over his armfuls of fabric.

She turned around and grinned. "You like?"

He nodded. She "liked," too. She'd been interested in getting her hands on something a little more fashion-forward that could work for the office and transition to an evening engagement, and she bit her bottom lip while she admired herself. The dress alone – a gorgeous black number with short sleeves and huge, deep pink orchids exploding across the knee-length skirt – cost over a grand. The adorable leather jacket that went with it was nearly three times that. Fortunately, working for Tony Stark had effectively immunized her against sticker shock, and he'd probably appreciate seeing her in this anyway.

"You know, I'm so close to just taking this one, but let's see what else you found," she said kindly, gesturing at the associate's finds.

He lit up with excitement. "Sure!"

Just as he began to spread out his loot on a nearby table, a jazzy little tune started up in Pepper's purse.

"Oh, excuse me," she said, clicking over in her heels and plucking out the cheerily ringing cell phone. She frowned slightly at the picture attached to the caller ID. It was Tony, which didn't make any sense. Wasn't he out with Jim eating shrimp, or something? What the heck was he calling for? To add to the strangeness, she realized she was holding her work phone, which he never used to reach her. But then again, there was no accounting for Tony's weirdness. She just rolled with it and hit Send. "Yes, Mr. Stark, what is it? Do you and the colonel need a lift home from the restaurant?" she asked sweetly. _Aaaand … pause for witty rejoinder …_

"Hiiiiiiiihhhh…"

Pepper pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. _What the…?_ Apparently Tony had lost his phone and Darth Vader had picked it up.

"Um, hello?" she asked cautiously, pulling the phone back up. The labored breathing, which almost sounded like static, continued. "Tony, if this some kind of prank, I swear to –"

"Virginia Potts," said a voice on the other end. It sounded scrambled. Pepper had been around enough techno-doodads to recognize what that distinctive "there's a woofer and a tweeter speaking at once" vocal stamp meant. "We have abducted Mr. Tony Stark and Colonel James Rhodes. Do not contact Stark Industries, and do not contact the police. We are monitoring you remotely and if you try either, they will be put to death immediately."

_WHAT?_ Her heart started to pump painfully. Just the word "abducted" was tempting her halfway into a panic. But Pepper, as a high-level employee of Stark Industries, had been trained to deal with worst-case scenarios like this and she managed to keep her cool for a critical thirty seconds. First things first: take care of business and get the hell out of here so she could deal with this mess in the privacy of Tony's house.

"Before we get to your demands," she said quietly, eyes riveted on the back of her assistant, who was absorbed in laying out the rest of the dresses, "I want proof of life. Send a photo." And she hung up her phone with a snap, not giving the kidnapper another chance to speak. It was Negotiation 101. The first play was over and the ball was in the criminal's court. Basic protocol. Didn't stop her from shaking, though. She had to get out of here.

Her assistant looked up curiously from where he was still arranging the dresses, with a sweet sort of "Hmm?" expression. He hadn't heard her. Good. "Miss?" he asked. "Is everything all right?"

"A-Absolutely," she said, with a gentle smile. "It's just that I've been suddenly called away."

"Oh, that's not cool," he said, and actually pouted.

Pepper turned on the charm. "No, it isn't. However, this dress is coming with me, and so is the jacket. In fact, I think I'll wear it out. Could you, you know," she turned around, "Cut the tag? I really do need to be on my way."

The eager salesman hurried off for a pair of scissors. Two minutes and a credit card swipe later, Pepper was hurrying off juggling a purse, a Cavalli bag with a jacket in it, and her work phone. It lit up and started to play music, announcing that "Tony" was calling again, just as she reached the marble-floored elevator for the parking garage and pressed the button hard. The doors shot open and she got in alone, face going white as the phone continued to ring. The doors slid shut. As soon as she was alone, she flipped her phone open. She almost dropped it.

"Oh my God!"

There on her screen was a photo of Tony and Jim. Both men were on their knees on a cement floor and affixed – she wasn't sure how – to a metal water pipe running between them. Jim was blindfolded and gagged. Tony wasn't blindfolded or gagged, but only because he had much bigger problems. He was listing to the left, clearly unconscious. Blood trickled down the side of his face and dripped from his nose and mouth.

Pepper felt her heart slamming against her ribs. For all the emotional blocks she put up to protect herself and for all the bimbos Tony brought home (although to be fair that seemed to have stopped), he was a lot more than just her boss and she was a lot more than just his employee. And she'd seen enough terrifying footage of him in a hostage situation for the rest of her life, thank you very much. Blood on his t-shirt (the funny one she'd given him a few years ago, she noted ruefully), jaw slack, Jim trussed up next to him like a turkey… She shook her head. How did this happen? These two healthy, strong men hadn't been able to put up enough of a fight to escape. And between Tony's iron will and Jim's combat training, they really should have managed something that _didn't_ end with them tied to a pipe.

So these kidnappers were obviously pros. She bit her lip as she squinted at Tony's rapidly swelling right eye. Whoever they were, they weren't above roughing up a famous face to prove a point. They meant business. So what the hell did they want?

The elevator continued its descent into the parking garage and the phone buzzed again, announcing another incoming picture message. This time, the number was Restricted. Of course with her luck, it was probably also prime coded or backshot or triple-bounced or whatever the latest word was for making something untraceable. With a shaking finger, Pepper steeled herself and hit the button to open it. It looked like a shot of a computer screen. The type was black against a white background and read:

**WE HAVE GIVEN YOU PROOF OF LIFE.**

**WE DEMAND THE SUIT IN EXCHANGE FOR THE LIVES OF ANTHONY STARK AND JAMES RHODES.**

**CALL 411 TO INITIATE CONTACT. DO IT WITHIN TEN MINUTES.**

The "or else" part was left unwritten but Pepper's imagination was already producing it in lurid Technicolor. She leaned against the back wall of the elevator and stared with a dry mouth and rabbiting heart at the lowering numbers on the floor display before flipping back to the sad picture of Tony and Jim. Things were making a depressing amount of sense, now. The suit. It all came down to the damn suit. The kidnappers clearly knew about Tony's amazing invention – not to mention its creator – because Idiot Man, with his super-powered Lack of Self-Control, had announced his secret identity at a freaking press conference last year.

Thinking about that conference and the following media relay she'd run still made her mad, so she focused on the present as the elevator inched its way down. Well. The kidnappers wanted the Iron Man suit. They'd obviously asked Tony to give it to them. He'd obviously said no, and they'd obviously punched him in the face a lot to express their displeasure. So there were two things she needed to do. She had to get back to the mansion and get Jarvis to help her with this. But first she needed to hurry up and call 411 – this was so surreal – which would somehow put her through to the kidnappers. (She wasn't quite sure how that would work.) And then she'd have to figure out how to negotiate this lunacy so that Tony and Jim wouldn't be sent back to Stark Industries one piece at a time.

Level G3 couldn't come fast enough. The elevator doors opened and she bolted for her car.


	4. It Ain't Easy

_Chapter Four__:_ _It Ain't Easy Bein' Iron Man_

"Ohhh."

Tony came around with a sticky mouth and a throb of pain behind his eyes. His wrists pulled uncomfortably from where they were fastened behind him. He spat blood onto the floor; it puddled between his knees. At some point during the proceedings in the "interrogation room" he'd bitten or cut the inside of his cheek, and now his lips were crusty and it was painful to talk and everything tasted like copper. Yuck.

He looked up through his left eye (the right wouldn't open) and checked out his surroundings. Semi-darkness. Cement floor. Lit computer screens along one wall, dim fluorescent lighting, and nobody else in sight. A basement, judging by the cool air.

"Mrff?" asked someone next to him.

He jumped slightly and looked. Jim was tied up to his left, with a bandana over his eyes and duct tape over his mouth.

"Hey, hang on, Rhodey," he said, moving his jaw as little as possible. He dribbled some blood onto his t-shirt anyway and muttered a curse.

Jim stayed still and Tony painfully inched his way over to his friend so they were right up against each other. "When I pull up, you pull down," he instructed, and delicately gripped the blindfold with his teeth. "Nah!" he ordered with his mouth full. He moved, Jim moved, and between them they managed to get it off. Tony spat the bandana onto the floor and eyed the duct tape, wondering if he could use the same procedure to get it off. He was focused outside of himself, so he wasn't really wondering how bad he looked, but the wide-eyed expression on Rhodey's face was better than a mirror. _Oh no, that's right_, he remembered. _They trussed him up before they started in on me._

"Ghtth!" said Jim, and jutted his chin out at Tony.

Tony obliged him, got a corner of the duct tape between his teeth and pulled. Using the same "opposite movement" protocol as before, they got the tape off as fast as possible. Tony spat it out weakly but it didn't get far enough, and instead of floating down to the floor it got stuck on his shirt.

"Great," he mumbled.

"Holy shit," Jim said, taking in his friend's appearance. "Tony, who are these guys? Did they tell you what did they want? What do you remember?"

Tony looked at his friend miserably. The initial kidnapping had been a simple snatch and grab – both of them dragged into an alley mere yards from the restaurant and chloroformed – and they'd woken up here. The subsequent interrogation had been loud and violent and due to the repeated face-punching the details were a little sketchy, but the big points were unforgettable.

"They're some techno-terrorist group. Call themselves WarGod. They want the suit. Last thing I heard before I blacked out was they were going to trade. Us for the tech. Probably bullshit. I think they're gonna get what they want and then kill us." Something dribbled from his nose and hit his chin. He ignored it.

So did Jim. "Who are they negotiating with?"

Tony spat. "No idea."

In truth, he had every idea; he just didn't want to get an earful from Rhodey right now. They needed to escape, not argue, and Tony knew the colonel would definitely start arguing if he found out what he'd done to buy them some more time: waited until the end of the interrogation, looked as pathetic and beaten and small as he could – not hard, considering he was tied to a chair and had just been smacked around – and then he pretended to relent in the face of brutality and gave the kidnappers someone to negotiate with.

There was only one person in the world that he trusted to pull this off.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Audi roared out of the parking garage and Pepper grabbed her cell phone. _Screw the new law_, she thought. _This is important._ But just as she flipped it open, her heart gave an unpleasant jolt. What the heck was she supposed to say? When it came right down to it, she had absolutely no idea how to give the kidnappers what they wanted.

She could bluster, sure. Thanks to Tony's unknowing tutelage over the years, she could bluster and bullshit with the best of them. But handing over the suit? Please. Tony had all sorts of safeguards in place to keep anyone but him from accessing it. It was just common sense. She bit her lip as she tapped the gas pedal, eyes on the road, heart racing, mind elsewhere. These kidnappers were complete unknowns; she could feel herself starting to panic again. So she pulled out a little mental trick that she'd learned years ago, and imagined the craziest, most violently horrific Worst Case Scenario she could:

_Thugs figure out that I can't give them the suit. _

_Thugs torture and execute Jim on camera._

_Thugs realize that Tony has the suit codes, and they need to get those codes out of him._

_Thugs take the expression "out of him" literally, and beat Tony like a piñata until he splits open in the middle._

_I lose my guys._

_Unacceptable. _

It worked. Panic fled in the face of cold fury. There was nothing quite like imagining the WCS to remind her that failure was not an option and put her mind right. She set her jaw and dialed, and out of habit found herself expecting the _ding-dong-ding "AT&T, Los Angeles."_ No sound. And instead of the usual operator blowing through "Goodafternoonwhatcity?" there was a hiss and a click, informing her that she was being transferred to some kind of secure untraceable line.

"This is Pepper Potts," Pepper announced firmly as she hit her blinker and scanned the street before making a right. "Who am I speaking to?"

"That is unimportant," came the filtered voice of the negotiator on the other end. "All systems indicate you have not contacted the authorities, so Stark and Rhodes are still alive. Do you agree to the exchange?"

Pepper's face got hard. In the end, she'd have to say yes. After all, what choice did she have? But there would be no agreement until there was further proof of life. Quid pro quo, and all that. "I want streaming video of them in real time, and I want to know they're not being harmed further."

_Click._ The line was dead. And for thirty stomach-churning seconds she was sure Tony and Jim were too, even as she took the onramp to the freeway on autopilot and high-tailed it to the house in Malibu. But just as she passed a bright green exit sign, there was a beep and a whirr and the built-in onboard navigation system lit up. The small screen in the center console flashed brightly. Before she could even spare a thought as to how these assholes had hacked into her car's system … there they were. The video was slightly grainy and they were still tied to the pole, but they were both awake (she gave a little inner cheer), and somehow Jim had gotten the blindfold and gag off. She watched them for a few seconds. They were talking to each other, plotting probably, huddled close like sheltering birds. The sound came on.

"_Who are they negotiating with?_" she heard Jim ask.

And she saw Tony spit blood like old chewing tobacco. "_No idea,_" he said.

"Are you satisfied?" asked the negotiator coolly.

"Just keep the video feeding," Pepper said primly. "Anything happens to them, and the deal's off." And then, because she couldn't play games anymore she added, "Yes, I am. When and where?"

"Dock 89. Port of Los Angeles. Be there with the armor at 5 PM. Come alone."

The connection ended, but the video kept playing. Pepper sighed through her nose and lead-footed the gas pedal. So essentially, this had become a question of time. She had at least guaranteed their safety until five o'clock, which meant she had – quick glance at the dashboard – an hour and forty minutes to come up with a solution. If she blew that deadline, things would quickly go from bad to worse, if they hadn't already.

Pepper continued to sneak looks at the video all the way back to the mansion. She pulled into the driveway with a little bit more swerve and force than necessary, and the tires skidded on the concrete, but she made it up to the ID box without hitting any of the flower beds and lowered her window. Jarvis's scan washed over her. Moments later she parked with a jerk next to Tony's _newly_ newly restored Shelby Cobra (he'd had to repair it again after he landed on it that one time). She had to turn the car off but she still needed that video feed, so she gave the key a back quarter-turn, shutting off the engine but leaving all the secondary systems running on the battery. The nav system was still glowing at her; she hopped out and trotted for Jarvis's center console. She slowed to a halt upon seeing the gigantic words on the screen.

MISS POTTS, PLEASE DO NOT SAY ANYTHING. I AM SWEEPING YOUR CAR FOR MONITORING DEVICES.

She felt an almost childish urge to clamp her hands over her mouth. At least she could count on Jarvis to keep his head – or collection of circuits, or whatever – in this situation. While he ran his scanners over her car she took the time to adjust her breathing, using an exercise that Jake had taught her last week during her training session at the gym. In for four, out for eight. _In for four, out for eight. Come on, you can do this, in for four…_

"Miss Potts?"

"Yes?"

"Everything is clear. There are no bugging devices present that I can detect. We are free to communicate."

"Thank God," she said, wandering over to Tony's chair. "Please tell me you were monitoring all that." She sat down with a plop.

"Yes, I was. Your vocal command 'send proof of life' initiated my monitoring of your phone and your car."

"Good," she said. "Bring up the live feed from the nav system and leave it on your screen."

Jarvis did so, and immediately a large feed of Tony and Jim appeared in the corner. Pepper sighed. "Anything you can tell me?"

"I have been working on the problem while you drove here, and you can rest assured that they will not suspect you of seeking help."

Pepper blinked. "How?"

"Mr. Stark designed a decoy chip some years ago for all the cars to which he has access. In the event that a car is being electronically monitored, this chip has the power to send out a false GPS reading. Yours, as a matter of fact, is cruising north on the Pacific Coast Highway at 63 miles per hour, and will not arrive at the house, where these … fiends …" Pepper smiled faintly at his word choice. "Expect you to go in order to retrieve the armor, until 4 PM. Your cell phone is electronically shielded within this space. I would recommend calling the authorities as soon as we have a location on Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes."

Pepper nodded. "All right. Is there any way you can find them?"

"Yes," Jarvis said after a moment. "My satellite feed has been attempting to trace the second phone call. The transmissions have been scattered, as expected, over numerous arrays. However, I am compiling the data and I will triangulate it from there."

"Okay. What about the scheduled meeting at the Port?"

There was a pause. If a human had paused like this, it might equate to a silent, "Are you serious?" glare, but actually, Jarvis was just processing her query. "It is doubtful that they will meet you there with anything other than lethal force, Miss Potts," he said politely. "I strongly recommend that you do not go. There is also no indication so far that they will return Mr. Stark or Colonel Rhodes once they get the armor."

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "True." Then she sighed. "Also, there's the small problem that I can't even give them what they want. What are we going to do?"

There was a moment of silence as Jarvis mashed raw data into something resembling an answer.

"Recompiling," he said. "Resuming calculations using two participants." Another pause. "Miss Potts, I believe at this stage in the game, our best strategy would be to ignore the kidnappers' request for a meeting, locate Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes, and send rescue."

Pepper nodded. This seemed sensible. Also, just the curious instance of Jarvis using the word "we" (she must have accidentally activated some new function of his) was making the situation feel a little less impossible. "I guess it's a stupid question, but Tony didn't happen to inject himself with a tracking microchip, did he?"

"Negative, Miss Potts. Mr. Stark comes equipped with no such device."

Pepper bit her lip. "Damn. How about getting a trace from the video feed? It's streaming live."

Jarvis calculated for a moment. "Data analysis complete. It appears that they are using the same scrambling program as they used for the phone calls, but the coding contains numerous errors. It is possible for me to enter in through a back door and put an appropriate trace."

Pepper stood up. "Do it," she said firmly, mostly to hide the antsy, anticipatory feeling rising in her gut. She was getting the nibblings of a very foolhardy if expedient idea, which blossomed into more of a definite plan with every second. Just as she reached for the zipper on her dress, she took one last deep breath. "And Jarvis, while you're at it," she licked her lips once. "… Please get my birthday present ready."

She got to work on the zipper and soon she was wiggling out of her dress and folding it neatly over the back of Tony's desk chair. Jarvis, who was still working the calculations, responded with a slight delay.

"Yes, Miss Potts. Preparing installation."

The floor began to rumble. Pepper stepped out of her black pumps, rolled off her hose and trotted over to her small locker in nothing but her bra and panties, where she pulled out the forest green bodysuit.

"I must be out of my mind," she said as she stepped into it. "Jarvis, how are we doing?"

"Automated suit-up process initiated. Time on crack trace is 5 minutes and counting," he reported.

"Great." Pepper zipped herself into the bodysuit and walked over to the floor grid, which had split apart in its usual complicated pattern. She stepped gingerly into the wide-open forest-green boots. Dummy and a few other bots were clacking their grippers excitedly, whirring over on their treads so they could hurry in to assist. She smiled at them gently.

"Miss Potts? Your suit?"

She swallowed. No going back now. "I'm in place. Let's go."

"Commencing," Jarvis answered.

She was jostled slightly as the robotic arms brought in all the components but the Bot Brigade, as she called them, did a fine job with the detail work and seamlessly finished suiting her up, blinking and beeping at her cheerfully as they went about it. It was funny; she'd never had the same problems with the bots that Tony always complained about. The only thing she could figure was that she was friendly to them and said "please" and "thank you." (A little courtesy never hurt anything.) There was no fear in her eyes this time as Dummy and the others screwed things into place at high speed and then backed off. The faceplate came down and the HUD came up, scanning the area and preparing her for flight.

"Jarvis, how are you coming?"

"Nearly complete, Miss Potts," he said in her ear. "I will send you the coordinates in the air. In order to be of further assistance to you though, I must ask … what exactly is your plan?"

Pepper began to prepare herself, stretching her arms and working her fingers in the bulky gloves. "My plan is exactly your plan," she said calmly. "Find Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes, and send rescue."

"Ah. Yes. Perhaps I was remiss in my explanation, Miss Potts," Jarvis replied in a light, almost sarcastic tone of voice. "I believed that sending rescue would involve calling the police."

He was teasing, and quite well. Pepper smiled inside the suit. "How about we make that plan B?" she asked. "Tony and Jim don't have much time. I need to get them out of there, and with your help, I think I can do it."

"I agree," Jarvis said. "You are intelligent, and I am programmed to be extraordinarily capable and helpful."

"And modest," Pepper quipped.

She clanked across the garage and stood directly underneath the impromptu skylight that Tony had made a year ago, loosening her upper body and slightly stretching her neck. The hole was still a little ragged around the edges, but it worked just fine, and she looked straight up at the circle of blue sky. She knew what she had to do, now. So she gathered her courage and ruthlessly squashed her nerves and did like Tony had taught her: spine straight, legs together, shoulders back, arms at her sides, faceplate aimed at the sun. And suddenly she felt all fear leave her, and a tingle of excitement take its place.

It was time to fly.

"Okay, Jarvis. I'm ready. Launch."

The thrusters lit up under her feet and she shot out of the lab like a smooth-burn firework.


	5. To Be Continued

_Chapter 5__: To Be Continued_

"… And barring any change in present conditions, you have a 99 percent chance of success. Should these conditions change, factoring in a possible attack and your limited experience with firepower…"

Pepper tuned Jarvis out in favor of the humming, flickering, lively HUD display. Normally she was all about numbers and odds (working in business did that to a girl) but right now she was a bit preoccupied with soaring off into the wild blue yonder and saving two very important lives. She darted through the clouds like a dragonfly, cloud mist collecting on the suit as she practiced angling herself in different directions with her thrusters, not really flying anywhere in particular. The coordinates had yet to come through.

"Jarvis?" she asked, right in the middle of a figure. He was still talking his electronic head off; obviously he'd imprinted on Tony at some point.

"Thirty five percent," he finished. "Yes, Miss Potts?"

"Where are the coordinates?"

In answer, there was a double blip and a 3D map appeared in one corner of the HUD, layered for topography, streets and atmospheric conditions, with a blinking red dot in downtown Los Angeles. It was posted right above the small video feed of Tony and Jim, a constant reminder of why she was doing this.

"Thank you, Jarvis. Please turn up the sound on the video. And wish me luck!"

Jarvis paused. "Luck," he said softly.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The door opened. Tony and Jim squinted into the sudden light from the other room and Tony instinctively jerked away as a tall man approached and crouched before them. If there were some sort of costume design award for dressing like a creep from the Matrix, this guy would win it. Tall and deathly pale. Shaved head and sunglasses. Black raincoat over a black one-piece. Rippling, juiced-up physique. He'd been the one to do most of the "convincing" back in the interrogation room.

"Ah, I see you managed to get the Colonel's gag off," he said.

Jim wisely said nothing and Tony just glared.

"Well, no matter," he went on. "It's not like you two are going anywhere. Oh, and by the way, your drop girl sends her regards. She's swinging by the Port in about an hour to deliver your armor." He smiled coldly. "Deluded little bitch actually thinks she's getting you back in return."

Jim, who had just put two and two together and gotten six, whipped his head around to glare at Tony, but Tony wouldn't look at him. He just held his captor's gaze icily.

"Oh, believe me, she will," he said with an assured air. (His years in business had raised his bullshit kung-fu to Grandmaster quality.) "And if you call her that word again, I'll personally make sure you get the death penalty when this is over."

Jim winced as the guy punched Tony in the stomach.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pepper was just over Westwood, gazing with pity at the traffic tangle on Wilshire and Glendon, when the video feed distracted her. She heard Jim say, "_Who are they negotiating with?_"

And something big and cold plopped into the pit of her stomach as Tony spat and said, "_No idea._"

"Oh no," she mumbled. "Jarvis, we have a serious problem."

"Miss Potts?"

"The video isn't live anymore. It's on a loop!" She was getting angry now, letting it feed her. "I have to move in. Get all arrays up and running. I'm closing on the location."

That sneaky tape had been really good. Nearly a half hour of actual feed had fooled her into thinking she really had that much time. Speaking of which, the HUD clock was telling her it was a few minutes after 4. Pepper Potts would be expected at the Port with the armor at 5, which meant the kidnappers were most likely planning on moving there soon to "receive" her, but in her current guise as, well, as The Flying Whatever, maybe she could catch them before they split. She kicked up the burn on her thrusters and within seconds Downtown L.A. sparkled underneath her in the afternoon sun. City Hall was dead ahead, somewhat dwarfed by the giant skyscrapers around it but still a very impressive and beautiful building.

She got a good look as she approached. The exterior was about what you'd expect from a 1920's masterpiece – white marble and classic lines with a point of interest at the pinnacle. The office portion of the building was topped by a large rotunda with small viewing balconies that wrapped all around it, and atop that was a step-pyramid roof with a large lightning rod at the peak. Pepper took in all these details as she circled around it, the sun winking off her armor. She landed gently in the fronds of a palm tree about thirty feet away from the building and got to work.

"Thermal scan," she ordered. Jarvis complied and the HUD lit up with thousands of human heat signatures at first, because the building was full. But as the scan went lower and lower, finally reaching the sublevels, the signatures disappeared. And then the scanners hit Basement 4. "Jackpot," she murmured. Two unmoving thermal signatures sat in the middle of one room and six others were moving around – five in an adjoining room, one near the still figures. "Basement 4 Infrastructure Scan. Focused MRI. X-ray. Sound. Everything you can get for me, Jarvis. Hurry."

Jarvis worked silently, and as the information poured in Pepper realized what she was facing and swallowed painfully. Maybe calling the cops wasn't such a bad idea after all.

The picture wasn't pretty as the infrastructure of Basement 4 came to life in the mock-up on her HUD. Lots of complicated machinery had been hijacked for what looked like nefarious purposes down here. In between readings, she gave these guys props for moxie – slumming in the basement of a historic building (still in use!) and making their headquarters here was a pretty gutsy move. She saw, among other things, Tony and Jim, a stockpile of guns (Jarvis was pulling up their specs – they were some kind of fancy photon rifle), and lots of expensive, cutting-edge tech. But it was one word, stamped over and over again on crates, which caught her eye: WarGod.

"Jarvis, search query WarGod."

The HUD started scrolling the salient points and she read it as fast as she could. In theory, "WarGod" was a splinter group of techno-terrorists with plans for causing WWIII. But in practice, it just looked like they were a bunch of highly experienced and rather successful thieves. Jarvis started pulling up articles about tech robberies where they were prime suspects, and she briefly scanned them with passing interest … until he brought up something very current that hooked her.

Document 18 was a highly disturbing press release from Intellitech, one of many Stark Industries rivals, detailing the recent theft of a bleeding-edge neural-link suit they had in development called Superhuman Hover-Drive (SHD). SHD, the release explained, was a simple body suit made up of tens of billions of little interconnecting neuro-units that were supposed to interface directly with the user's brain. The suit itself offered tremendous protection from firepower and flight "up to speeds that couldn't be detected by the human eye" – probably hyperbole on Intellitech's part, but whatever. The scary part was this: while SHD had many advantages over previous iterations in hover-tech (no hover-board necessary, huge improvements in speed and strength, etc.), it was buggy, and thus unreliable and dangerous. They even admitted that one of their test subjects had "received massively traumatic and insurmountable neuro-feedback" during the initial trials, which essentially meant that the poor soul had fried his central nervous system and died. And they publically blamed WarGod for the loss of their prototype.

Pepper closed her eyes for a moment. She had to assume that these guys had this technology and knew how to use it, the fire power to protect themselves, and of course the leverage of two hostages. She had to plan accordingly. The danger level on this mission had just gone through the roof.

"Damn it. I have to clear that building so I can flush them out. What do you think, Jarvis?" Pepper asked. "You're seeing what I am, right?"

"I am, Miss Potts. And I concur. Allow me to place an anonymous call. A bomb threat should do the trick."

No time for ethical debate on this one. As long as they got the building clear… "Go for it."

So Pepper sat and waited patiently as the alarms went off, and screaming ambulances and bright red fire trucks rolled up to the building. Firemen sprinted inside in spite of their heavy mustard-yellow uniforms, and began to evacuate it. Obviously this wasn't the "superhero" thing to do, waiting in a tree like a dove rather than diving in like a hawk, but Pepper honestly didn't see the sense in causing unnecessary panic and property damage, and she figured the bomb threat would flush out WarGod anyway.

She was half right. The bomb threat worked on the ordinary citizens just fine. Terrified businesspeople with briefcases began to pour out all the exits like sand from a broken hourglass and City Hall was cleared within minutes. She scanned the building, checking for those elusive heat signatures from before. But all the signatures in the basement were gone.

"Crap!" She scanned the building again and finally found them. They were rising fast, eight signatures all packed together like sardines, and they were heading for the 28th floor, where the elevators opened out into the large rotunda circled by the observation decks. "Jarvis, they're trying to escape with Tony and Jim! All systems go! Let's do it!"

She rocketed out of the tree with such a blast that the top of the palm almost caught fire, and she was pretty sure several people in the crowd saw something, but Pepper had her eyes on the prize and she didn't look back.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The muzak was incessant. Nobody was saying anything, just staring at the floor or the wall like people usually do in elevators, except this elevator was packed with brawny, armed thugs dressed in black trench coats over curious one-pieces. Tony, had he not been so dizzy from being forced to his feet and frog-marched out of the basement, would have recognized the black suits from a recent future-tech conference in Tokyo. Why they were taking this way out of the building, going so far as to override the elevator commands to get to the top floor, he couldn't imagine, and even though he and Jim were handcuffed and surrounded, the silence was more uncomfortable than the restraints.

"Um, you all know there's a bomb in the building, right?" he piped up.

"Stuff it," said Matrix Villain, as he'd decided to call the head guy.

"Because we seem to be heading for the top floor, and the last time I checked, this place doesn't have a helipad," Tony drawled, ignoring the warning.

"I _said_, shut up."

"Whatever. C'mon, what are we doing, flying away?" Tony taunted. (He had no idea how close he was to the truth.) "'Cause you know, unless you dipshits have wings – whoa! Hey!" He ducked to avoid the man's backhand. The slap missed him and hit another thug, who stumbled back from the blow and accidentally planted the butt of his fancy photon gun in someone else's groin. Toes were stepped on, curses hurled, punches thrown, and in the confusion the door dinged open. Tony and Jim muscled their way out into the hall and made a run for it.

They didn't get far, though. The rest of their captors piled out of the elevator pretty quick; one of the thugs gritted his teeth and snagged Tony's collar. Tony jerked, slipped, and went down on his ass.

"Not so fast, you," villain number five growled. "On your feet, rich boy! C'mon!"

Tony sighed. He was getting very sick of being ordered around. His head ached, his vision was a little unsteady, his hands were fastened behind his back and his nose had started dripping again. But he hadn't lost his spirit. As soon as he was hauled to his feet he knocked the guy off balance with his shoulder and bolted …

Only to smash into Jim, who had turned back for him and was standing way too close. Jim caught Tony with his chest and they went down in a grunting heap. Total distance of their mighty escape attempt: ten feet.

"Sorry," Tony mumbled as they were hauled up once again and shoved into the enormous rotunda, walled on all sides by windows and dominated by an enormous mirrored bar at the back. The dark wood paneling glowed in the afternoon light.

"S'okay," Jim mumbled back. He was starting to get a really bad feeling about why they were up here.

Their shoes squeaked on the marble floor. The bad guys hurled them into the center of the room and they stumbled to a halt, surrounded on all sides again by their captors. Matrix Villain casually took the safety off his gun.

"So it'll be days before anyone checks up here probably," he said in a conversational tone. "Nice knowing you, Mr. Stark. Colonel. I'm sure the Iron Man suit will greatly aid our cause. Oh, and don't worry about your pretty assistant, Stark. We'll take good care of her at the Port." He raised his gun and pointed it at them. "Any last words?"

Jim had nothing to say. He touched Tony's shoulder with his own in support. Tony barely noticed; he was livid. Nobody, but _nobody_ got to kill him while explaining how they were going to hurt Pepper. In fact, he remembered with perverse glee, the last asshole who'd tried that particular trick was dead. So he squared his shoulders and spoke.

"Wow, you're really a tough guy," he sneered, "Executing two people who can't fight back, and threatening to do the same to an unarmed woman."

"Shut up, Stark, we're done here," said the leader. He pulled up and aimed, nodding at the rest of his crew to do the same.

"You're all making a huge mistake," Jim added finally, staring around at the barrels of six rifles.

Tony let his anger carry him. "Don't waste your breath, Rhodey. They're not worth it."

"I am really gonna enjoy killing you," Matrix Villain said.

Tony whirled on him. "Go to _hell_, you cowardly sack a' –"

Everybody fired.


	6. It's a Bird, It's a Plane

_Chapter 6__:_ _It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's …_

At least, that's what it sounded like. The firing of six photon laser guns at once was Tony's first explanation for the noise. Then he felt an outside breeze in his hair and the grit of pulverized glass on his cheek, and saw the shattered bay window.

Everyone – villains and captives alike – stared in shock. The vision that sailed through the empty space made even the team leader lower his gun.

"_Stop right there, all of you!_" it snarled. The silver woman floated smoothly before them, hovering on her thrusters, glinting in the sun like a morning star. "_Release those two men immediately._"

"Oh my God," Tony murmured. As relieved as he was to still be breathing, when he had intended Pepper to work things out with the kidnappers this was _not_ what he had in mind.

Worse, Jim was on the same page. "Is that–?"

"Yup."

"The hell we will!" yelled Matrix Villain. "Fire!" And he and three of his men sprayed laser blasts at the suit, which dodged the shots gracefully. Two others grabbed Tony and Jim and pulled them away, apparently to deal with them later.

"No!" Tony shouted.

He fought hard but uselessly. The two thugs hustled him and Jim out one of the small glass doors. Before they knew it they were squeezed shoulder to shoulder on a little viewing veranda with their backs against the iron railing and the door clicked shut, trapping them outside the building. Tony ignored this latest annoyance. He only had eyes for what was happening inside and really, if something serious went down in the top floor rotunda, they were dead anyway. Two inches of glass and wrought iron wouldn't protect them worth a damn from that kind of firepower.

Pepper meanwhile shot one of her repulsors at the men, taking out the opposite window with a crash. She had intentionally missed by a mile – she was hoping to scare them.

It didn't quite work. "Knew you would try something like this, Stark!" Matrix Villain yelled as he threw off his trench coat and fired at Pepper again. "Sending your last-year tech after us? Pathetic! Look what _we_ can do!"

And he and the rest of his crew shed their coats and rose up into the air, hovering in a V formation and aiming their weapons directly at Pepper and charging them up. They all had their safeties off. Thankfully Pepper had done the same with her external speakers, so no one heard her squeak in terror. _Everybody_ saw her hare off through the broken window, however. That was pretty hard to miss. The villains took off in hot pursuit and they all shot upwards toward the pinnacle of the building, rising over the pyramid and up towards the lightning rod.

"What the hell?" Jim yelled to Tony over the noise. "They can fly?"

"They can fly," Tony said flatly. "Fuck."

The two of them watched helplessly, hair whipping in the wind, as the combined membership of WarGod chased Pepper around City Hall in a mad spiraling blur. They looked straight up at the steeple, craning their necks to get a better view, because Pepper had wisely taken the fight up and away. Her armor was very maneuverable and light, so she was doing very well at avoiding their attacks. Actually, it looked like she was toying with them.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

She wasn't. Inside the suit, it was panic time. Pepper was no soldier. She was no hero, she was certainly no _super_hero, and even though the possibility of fighting with armed goons had come up, she'd pushed it to the back of her mind. Until now, of course. Now it was front and center.

"Jarvis, help me! What the hell am I supposed to do now?" Jarvis calculated something as she dodged a fat laser blast from the left and thrust-vectored straight up to get out of the arena, if only for a moment.

"Miss Potts, I suggest you engage the repulsors as a weapon. Take a deep breath, turn around, and fire."

"Are you sure? What if I kill them?"

"Miss Potts, the hover suits they stole offer uncommon protection. Repulsors should be just thing to contain them."

"If you say s- Oh!" she shouted as the suit took a wallop from a photon rifle – her first battle bump – and she was knocked sideways with considerable force. Her side felt hot where she'd been hit. "Ow!"

The thrusters on her boots kicked in and righted her. And she turned angry eyes on her attackers. The HUD was lighting up like a firework show, and as she dodged the incoming blasts from their weapons her cameras shifted to a close-up of Tony and Jim on the veranda, Tony bloodied up, Jim exhausted, watching her with their mouths hanging open.

Her eyes narrowed, but she stayed still, as per Jarvis's advice, and let the thugs rush her, charging up her palm with a bright crackle of light. "Okay, here we go," she mumbled, engaging the targeting system and pining a bright dot on the leader of the pack. "Lock and load."

She fired off a mighty blast, nearly full power. Direct hit. It just knocked him back, though. He shook it off like a dog after a flea bath and went for her again.

She squeaked. And then she frantically focused her targeting system on any incoming thug, fired fast with her hands in opposite directions and reset at blinding speed for the next wave, because they were coming in from all angles. It was a wild air dance above City Hall, blasts from both sides firing everywhere, but she kept them at bay for a good two minutes as Tony and Jim, sensing hope, cheered her on from their perch on the veranda. They were screaming something supportive, if incomprehensible (it was coming through her mikes like "WAH-WOO!") and Tony was actually hopping up and down.

But then one guy decided to put his hover-drive in _hyper_-drive and got through her defenses. And then another made it, and another, and suddenly they were like ants, finding openings everywhere to crawl in and fire at close range. The tide had turned. Before she knew it she was being thrown about like a rag doll in a hurricane, unable to throw up anything to stop them. The blows and hits were raining down from all directions. She was covering her head and trying to protect herself from the thugs, who were having a field day.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After a few minutes of this Tony swore creatively. He bowed his head in guilt and scrunched his eyes shut. "Oh, I can't look. What was I thinking, giving her that thing? If she survives this, I'll kill her."

"Tony, chill," Jim shot at him, eyes still on the sky.

"She's got zero combat experience, Rhodey. Zee, Row. If she dies, it's on me."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Is that all you've got?" the leader yelled at her, as he fired a parting shot right between her breasts, knocking her back a ways.

_**(Christine Everhart, wearing only Tony's discarded maroon silk shirt, feigns friendliness. "You must be the famous Pepper Potts.")**_

She cried out in the suit and forced herself to take off, just slowly enough that they could follow her but not necessarily get off a clear shot. "Jarvis, there has to be some way we can shut these guys down!" And suddenly, just as she dodged a laser blast, she had an idea. "Wait a minute! Was that press release from Intellitech correct?"

"Rephrase your query, Miss Potts. I do not understand."

Pepper blasted towards the US Bank building, luring the crew away from City Hall for a moment. "I mean, was Intellitech telling the truth about the suits being buggy?"

"The clinical trials confirm the bugs, Miss Potts."

"And are these suits identical in spec to those in the clinical trials?" she asked frantically, checking over her shoulder; the six men were gaining on her. "Uh oh."

"Based on my initial scan of your opponents, yes, they are. They have not been altered in any way."

_**(Pepper, completely dressed and not a hair out of place, fires back with a self-effacing, modest smile and a half-bow. "Indeed I am.")**_

"Okay. Well, then maybe I can recreate whatever caused the suits to fail in the initial trials," she said. "Jarvis, what interferes with this kind of neural interface?"

"According to Mr. Stark's latest research into this sort of thing, competing electrical signals seem to do the trick."

"I can discharge straight electricity, can't I?"

"Oh, yes indeed, Miss Potts."

A feral grin. "Excellent."

_**(Christine looks vaguely dismayed. "After all these years, Tony still has you picking up the dry cleaning.")**_

She stopped on a dime and flew back towards City Hall, trailing six thoroughly confused and annoyed bad guys. ("Hold still, damn it!" one of them shouted.) Game plan already in action, she hovered above the roof once more as they closed in on her. Meanwhile, she lined up her shot and lit them all up with her targeting system. Twelve big fat juicy bogies were surrounding her. She was planning on taking out six guys and six electrically powered guns with one blast.

"Aw, what's the matter? Giving up? Suit's not making it?" the leader taunted. "Well, as long as we're going to take your pretty ass out, you might as well give us a name. Who the hell are you?"

Pepper didn't answer him.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Tony, she's not dead!" Jim yelled excitedly.

That got Tony to peek up and he let out a relieved puff of air. Then he watched her charge up above City Hall, collecting electricity from the lightning rod (the arc was so bright he could see it against the afternoon sky) and channeling it into the suit. His one good eye went wide. He knew exactly what this particular maneuver meant. He only prayed that she would be fast enough to deal with the results.

(_**Pepper, unfazed, treats Everhart like the used-up lay she is and says softly and sweetly, "I do anything and everything Mr. Stark requires …")**_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"_You morons made a huge mistake messing with Tony Stark,_" Pepper informed them in a gravelly, electronically-enhanced purr. "_And you can call me … the Silver Siren_."

The suit was now hoarding enough electricity to power three ear-popping death metal concerts at once. Split twelve ways, it would definitely get the job done.

She fired.

_**(And she smiles. "Including occasionally taking out the trash. Will that be all?")**_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The flash of the discharge was blinding. The shock wave came hard after it, and Tony and Jim watched as the six flying men were cut down like cane, shrieking for Jesus and losing their grip on their useless guns and probably peeing themselves, because Pepper had shorted out their suits (and their weapons) while they were hovering approximately four hundred feet in the air.

Five flailing bodies dropped like dead birds and plaster rained down from the pyramid top of City Hall, lightly coating Tony and Jim with dust. Tony nodded grimly. "Fearless Leader" seemed to have gotten a special parting gift from Pepper – a pressure pulse, if he wasn't mistaken – and he watched as the guy went rocketing by with a scream trailing out behind him. He sailed through the window of a nearby high-rise with a burst of glass and didn't come back to the party.

Tony figured the bastard was probably crawling around looking for his face in someone's destroyed board room, but he couldn't care less. He had other things on his mind. "The Silver Siren?" he complained to Jim over the wind. "Where does she think she is, 1943? That's a _terrible_ name!"

Jim rolled his eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The fight was definitely over. Pepper 1, Bad Guys 0.

Pepper did the honorable thing when her opponents fell. She swooped down and caught them, grabbing two guys by the seats of their pants (no time for dignity), and three others by their collars (they started gagging but she ignored them). Hauling five men put a little strain on the armor, but she did all right. "Smoke," she ordered from three hundred feet in the air. No way was anyone getting a picture of this new suit. Stark Industries had enough to handle after Tony had opened his fat mouth last year. Small vents opened up all around the suit, and smoke poured out, enveloping her in it. (The members of WarGod started coughing.)

When the rescue workers and the cops finally got close enough to the ambulances, they waved away the gritty air and ran towards six stunned men lying in a heap on the ground, all of them alive and reasonably unharmed. The cops arrested them, but even after they'd been cuffed, they kept raving about some silver robot woman.

"Yeah, yeah," said the seasoned cop holding open the door to the patrol car. "Hey, Indigo!" His partner, a younger man, looked up. "You wanna make sure we get these idiots a psych evaluation after processing?"

"Sure," said the second cop. "But we oughta – whoa!"

He shielded his face as something big screamed by right across the façade of the building. And a second later … "HELP!"

Startled, the cops (and most of the gathered crowd) looked up. The leader of the pack, nose bloodied, face puffing, arms flailing, was hanging above the hall's front steps. The back of his suit was neatly skewered on the flagpole. He was stuck like a pig.

"What the hell?" said the first cop.

But Pepper was already gone. With the spectators occupied with the police trying to get the last thug down from the flagpole, and the police occupied with clearing the scene, she took the opportunity to launch herself back up to the top of City Hall. An approaching news chopper thup-thup-thupped towards her but she didn't even pause in her ascent as she extended a palm and used up the last of her stored electricity in a tiny scrambling blast that gently fried its cameras. Unfortunately she fried something in the engine too, because the helicopter started wobbling.

"Oops." Only Jarvis heard her, thankfully.

The pilot mouthed something colorful and quickly veered off to the left to find a place to land; Pepper saw it touch down on the old Disney building, which was too far to get a good look at anything. The press was nicely distracted and the crowd below was trying to sort things out, so she was free to get what she came for.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Tony and Jim turned to her as she hovered up to them on the balcony.

"_Hi guys,_" she said, with a touch of worry. She put one metal gauntlet on Jim's arm and cupped Tony's battered face with her other hand. "_Are you two all right?_"

Tony and Jim, wild-haired, ruffled and coated in dust, looked at each other and then back at her in wide-eyed silence. They'd just watched an executive assistant fight a battle in a super-suit, and she was asking them if _they_ were okay?

The short answer to her question, by the way, was "No."

"I'd like to go home now, please," Tony said quietly.

"Me too," Jim added, with a concerned look at Tony.

Pepper smiled inside the suit. "_Consider it done._"

Still hovering in mid-air (there was no room to get on the balcony with them) she motioned for Tony to turn around. He put his back to her, and she snapped the chain on his handcuffs like dry spaghetti and fried the locks on the bracelets with a fingertip. They fell away. As she was taking care of Jim's restraints, Tony brought his wrists around front and rubbed the chaffed skin with shaking hands – with shaking everything, actually. It took him a second to figure out why. He was over-stimulated from the whole experience.

The realization came (naturally) just a smidge too late. Between the non-breakfast, the missed lunch, the kidnapping, the beating, and the lack of his usual armored protection against such things, his legs went out. He sank down onto the veranda on his hands and knees and hung his head breathlessly. The cement undulated under his palms.

"_Tony! Jim, give him to me,_" Pepper commanded, and Jim hefted Tony up under his arms and handed him over. She cradled him against her chest. "_You hang in, okay? I'm getting you out of here._"

"'m all right," he protested.

"_The hell you are,_" she scolded. "_Jim, are you injured?_"

"No, I'm okay."

"_Good. So if I fly slowly, you can hang on back there?_" Jim nodded. Pepper turned around in mid-air and arched her back so he could clamber on. He wrapped his arms securely around her metallic neck and got his knees up over her hips, and he set his face directly behind her head so she could take the wind for him. "_Ready?_"

"Yep. Let's roll before anybody else shows up."

"_No kidding. Here we go. Hold tight, now._"

She took it easy with them, heading for the coast at a fairly face-stinging clip but making sure Jim didn't slip an inch on her back. With Tony securely in her arms, she made a beeline for Malibu.


	7. Epilogue

_Epilogue__: I Can Do That_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pepper flew low over the spraying, tumbling waves as she rocketed home over the Pacific Ocean. Jim was well out of the sea spray because he was on her back, but she was holding Tony in front, and he ended up acting as a human windshield. By the time she made her approach to the house on the island he looked like he'd taken a shower with his clothes on and his hair was plastered to his head. Fortunately, he was too loopy to care.

"I'm all wet," he stated with authority, blinking seawater out of his eyes. "Ptttheh. And that is crazy salty. Blech. Needs a margarita to go with it. Hey Pep, you wanna set us down somewhere? Maybe I'll pull out the Cuervo and –"

Inside the suit, Pepper rolled her eyes. "_Tony, be quiet. We're almost at the house. Just hang on._" She shut off her external speakers and addressed her second-in-command. "Hey, Jarvis?"

"Miss Potts?"

"As soon as I land us, I want you to run a full diagnostic on Mr. Stark. I think he may have a concussion."

"Diagnostic is booting up as we speak."

"Great." She hit the speakers again as she rose up into the air above the house. "_Jim?_"

"Yeah?"

"_Hang on tight!_"

She boosted herself up so she was vertical. Jim gripped her like a koala bear as she down-thrusted like a pro, slipping through Tony's impromptu skylight and landing so gently on the cement floor in the bunker that Jim barely felt a jostle. ("Show off," Tony mumbled, and she allowed herself a smirk inside the suit.) Jim clambered off and stood back, distinctly impressed.

"Nice."

"_Thanks,_" Pepper said. She was still cradling Tony, who was blinking around at his workshop like he'd never seen it before.

"Wow," Tony said. He looked around everywhere and then at Pepper's faceplate. "Well, that whole experience was humiliating."

His delivery was so flat that it sounded more like an observation than a complaint, but in truth he was a little annoyed. His dime-novel fantasy had never cast Pepper as the freakin' superhero and him as the damsel in distress. This had all turned out ass-backwards. And what an ugly damsel he made, beaten and dizzy and resting in someone else's arms, one eye swollen shut and his face crusted with dried blood. It was the kind of thing that could send an ordinary man slinking off in shame.

Fortunately, Tony Stark was no ordinary man.

"Hey, she saved our lives," Jim argued. "Don't you dare –"

"But this kind of situation has rules," Tony spoke over him, "And attention must be paid."

"_Tony, what are you talking about?_" Pepper asked.

Tony ignored both of them and wiggled his arms free. Then he pressed down on the hidden releases right over Pepper's carotid arteries. The visor of her suit flipped up, revealing her battle-flushed, surprised face.

"Tony!" she chided.

"Ah, ah. Be quiet." He cleared his throat. "Oh, Pepper Potts," he said with feeling. He clasped his hands and batted his eyelashes absurdly. "My heroine." And before she could stop him, he grabbed her helmet and locked her in a passionate, unavoidable kiss.

Jim snorted. Tony broke off and smiled smugly at Pepper, who was struggling not to smile back. She settled for pursing her lips, sighing through her nose, and gently sitting Tony down on the steel operating table.

"Don't move," she commanded. "Jarvis, hit it."

"Yes, Miss Potts." A laser began to sweep over Tony where he sat on the table, head bent, legs dangling. "And if I may say so, Miss Potts, I am quite relieved to have Mr. Stark, Colonel Rhodes and you back in one piece."

She smiled at the nearest screen. "Me too. Thanks for helping me in the field. And thank you, Tony, for building such a sturdy suit." She gestured at her armor, rather dented and covered in burn marks from the photon rifles, but otherwise functioning perfectly. "Jarvis, can you get me out of this thing?"

Jarvis multi-tasked like a pro. He started the suiting-down process for Pepper just as he completed his diagnostic scan of Tony, declaring him concussion-free but in desperate need of food and water, followed by a good clean-up and an ice pack or two.

"I'll take care of the food," Jim volunteered as he ambled off towards the basement's small kitchen. He could do with something to eat himself, after all that excitement. "Hey Pepper, did you get lunch?"

"Um … no," she said tiredly as the bots worked on her. "Ow!" Dummy beeped at her in apology. The bots were having a hell of a time with the bolts on her arms and back (the most dented bits of the suit), and they had resorted to tugging. Tony, slightly dazed, watched the show from where he sat.

By the time the bots had freed her from the suit, Jim had returned with three bottles of water and a few Powerbars. He ripped the first bar open with a crinkle and tore it in half, and Tony shook his head at the sight of Pepper in only her flight suit.

"You know, Pepper, you really oughta let someone have a look at you," he suggested with concern. "You could have a lot of bruises under that s-mmllff!" His eyes went wide as Jim crammed a handful of Powerbar into his mouth.

"Here's the rest of it," he said politely, and handed Tony the half-full wrapper. Tony glared at him. The effect was ruined by his puffy cheek.

"Thank you, Jim," Pepper said dryly.

"No problem. Oh, here." He handed her a bottle of water and her own Powerbar, which she tore into immediately.

There was no sound for a few minutes except the crinkle of aluminum wrappers and chewing as everyone got their blood sugar back up. Real food could come later, but they had enough fuel to get things done.

"Jarvis, you were keeping tabs on me, right?" Pepper asked the room at large, and swigged from her water bottle.

"Yes, Miss Potts."

"So, I don't have any injuries that need immediate attention?"

"No, Miss Potts."

Pepper smiled. "Good. See, Tony? Nothing to worry about. I know I got knocked around a lot, but I feel fine."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**30 Minutes Later **

"Ah, ah, ah … ohhh."

Tony hovered in silence, icing half his face with one hand and supporting Pepper with the other as she lowered herself down onto the mattress in the guest bedroom.

Tony was tired. His facial injuries looked rather dramatic. He did have some minor internal bruising. However, a hot shower, clean lounging clothes, more water, another energy bar, Motrin and self-administered first aid had gone a long way, and while he still looked pretty beaten-up, he was definitely out of danger and he was actually functioning, which was more than he could say for Pepper. Not that he didn't appreciate her situation. The first "after-battle" was always a little traumatic. Tony remembered his vividly: the cuts, the little crescent indentations in his neck, the fatigue. He cursed himself for not putting more padding inside her suit, especially since he saw her when she stumbled out of the shower. _All_ of her.

It had been an accident. Really. She'd been coming out of the enclosure, and he thought she'd asked for a towel, and he came in with one, assuming she was already covered with one. She wasn't, he scared her, she tripped, he caught her, she was naked, they both realized this and went red, and then they did that non-verbal agreement thing to just add this to the gigantic pile of crap they never talked about. And being a gentleman (on occasion) he wasn't about to bring it up.

He'd seen the extent of the damage, however. Pounding hot water and comfortable jammies could only do so much; her entire back was a mess of little mottled bruises. As soon as she'd flipped off the light in the bathroom, he'd handed her a pain pill and water. She swallowed and chased it without comment.

The walk from the bathroom to the bed had taken an eternity; she was moving like a board. But she'd made it, and she yawned from her perch on the bed, and her shoulders relaxed.

Tony smiled. The medication was starting to kick in. "C'mon, almost there," he coaxed her. "Aaaaalmost there." She lay back with a groan, her head sinking into the pillow. "Good. _You_ are going to be black and blue tomorrow, I hope you know," he informed her. Then he realized he needed both hands to help her here, so he tossed the ice pack on the bed. "Up we go."

"Tony, you don't have to fuss over me," she said as he lifted her stiff legs and settled her.

"Do you need another pillow?" he asked as though she hadn't spoken.

They held each others' gaze for a few seconds. Finally, Pepper sighed and gave up. She just didn't have the energy to fight with him right now. "Yes," she mumbled. "One under my knees, if you don't mind."

Tony smiled. He fished another pillow out of the nearby linen closet and brought it over. As he stuffed it under the bend in her sweat pants he said, "Not at all. Least I can do for the Silver Siren. She saved my ass today, didn't you hear?"

Pepper groaned. "Oh my God, that was so dumb. I don't even know why I blurted that out."

Her boss sat down at her side and brought the covers up over her. "Well, I thought it was kind of funny, personally. And anyway, I give you mad props for improvising under pressure. Me, I had my name handed to me. You had to make yours up on the spot."

She snorted, then yawned again. "Thanks. I just hope nobody saw anything. Oh, if something leaks, or those guys from WarGod talk to the press, oh … this is going to be a nightmare," she said softly.

"Hey, hey." Tony started smoothing her hair back with calloused fingers. "Don't worry right now, okay? Feel better first. We'll talk later."

"… All right. Hey, Tony? Can I … Can I tell you a secret?"

Tony smiled. "Sure."

"Those guys made me really mad. When we were fighting in the air, I had to stop myself from just swinging out and hitting them."

Tony's brow knitted. "What? Why didn't you just do it? You'd have been perfectly justified in knocking their teeth out."

Pepper scoffed. "Hello, I was _metal-plated_, Tony. I could have taken somebody's head off. But…" She beckoned him closer with her chin, like this was sacred knowledge. "I know exactly what it would sound like."

"What?" he asked, all quiet curiosity, his face inches from hers.

"PLANG!" she intoned, and smiled goofily. And then she passed out. It was that quick. Tony just shook his head in amusement and snatched up the ice pack.

"Knock knock."

He re-applied the pack and looked towards the doorway. Jim was standing in it, fresh from a shower, dressed in a pair of borrowed sweats and an old t-shirt. A damp towel hung around his shoulders.

"Hey," Tony said.

"Hey. She out?"

Tony looked over at Pepper, who snuffled through her nose. "Oh yeah."

"All right. Come on, let's give her some space."

Tony didn't answer. He just cast another look at Pepper and seemed reluctant to leave.

"Come on, Tony. It doesn't take two people to sleep."

This was true. So he hefted himself up and walked out with Jim. They snicked the bedroom door shut behind them and padded across the parquet floor towards the living room; Jarvis had been adamant that they lie down and rest, but they were equally adamant that they could rest just fine in front of the plasma screen with the game on. They were quiet most of the way.

"That was a hell of a show she put on," Jim said at length.

"I know. It's disgusting how well she did," Tony mumbled, letting off some of his anxiety. "A newbie going off half-cocked and saving lives, just like that, like it's no big deal. Unbelievable. I swear, if she scares me like that again I'll –"

Jim smirked. "Aw, you're just pissed off 'cause she lands better than you do."

"Shut up."

Jim ignored him. "So, if we form like, an awesome fighting force, is she invited?"

Tony shot him a sideways angry look … which eventually turned mischievous. "Maybe."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The flashbulbs were popping like crazy. Tony gripped the podium with both hands and tried not to squint.

"And in conclusion," he said, sticking to his notes fiercely, "Stark Industries has finished its investigation into the events at Los Angeles City Hall three days ago. Wild speculation in the press," he shot a look at Christine Everhart, who was smirking fearlessly at him from the front row, "Sketchy eyewitness reports and ridiculously grainy YouTube footage aside, the company cannot confirm that any sort of Iron Man technology was involved in the apprehension of six members of the techno-terrorist organization known as WarGod."

More flashbulbs went off. He waited until they'd died down.

"However, on behalf of the technological community, the company would like to register its relief that these thieves have been apprehended, and that their apprehension involved minimal property damage, full recovery of stolen technology, no major injuries, and no loss of life."

He directed that last sentence squarely at the back of the room, where Pepper was standing stiffly in a conservative pantsuit and flats. The soft brace under her clothes kept her straight as a marine. He couldn't afford to smile proudly at her, but she knew that and smiled at him anyway. Unknown Hero Saves the Day, the L.A. Times had screamed the morning after the battle. Someone in the crowd had taken pictures, and a third of the front page was taken up by a photograph of the pile of stunned thugs near the ambulances, with an inset of the leader dangling unhappily off the flagpole over City Hall's front steps. The identity of the unknown hero(ine) would be kept under wraps for as long as humanly possible, he'd decided; she'd put herself in enough danger already.

As for the kidnapping, nobody knew about it. Tony did _not_ need that splashed all over the press. Stark Industries employed a legal team second to none, and they'd immediately hashed out a gag order for all parties involved.

"I will take a question," Tony said.

Before somebody could ask something important and business-related, almost on cue … "Mr. Stark, how'd you get that black eye and cut lip? Which, by the way, looks suspiciously about three days old. Where were you three days ago, anyway?" It was Everhart.

Tony glared at her. The ice packs had quelled the initial swelling, but his face was still a mess, and while Pepper had pretty mad skills with make-up, no amount of foundation could cover the damage completely. "I was doing business on my yacht three days ago," he answered smartly. "Had a small accident below deck. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. One of the crew members opened a cabin door and I slammed into it." He shrugged. "The door won the confrontation, obviously. Thank you."

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!" The voices overlapped and grew to a roar of noise. He ignored the sounds and the flashbulbs and stepped away from the podium.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Three weeks later, Pepper was taking a break from work at the mansion. Dressed in her usual heels and suit, she stood with crossed arms in a corner of the basement workshop and stared at the pod thoughtfully. She looked just as put-together as always, except that her light red hair was cascading down her shoulders because Tony had undone her ponytail earlier and run off with the rubber band like a four-year-old. Her face glowed from the light inside the capsule. She stifled a sigh.

The empty suit hung in five pieces, displayed between the first prototype of Jim's War Machine armor and the IM Mark II. Jarvis and the bots had taken great pains to repair her suit after the battle and clean it up, and it gleamed. In the soft lighting, it looked like a museum piece. It even had its own nameplate at the bottom of the case: Silver Siren, Mark I.

Pepper hung her head. She hadn't flown a single time since the incident at City Hall. She had no desire to. Yes, she'd healed completely, and Tony and Jim were still safe. Happy had been informed not to take "no" for an answer – he was now driving Tony absolutely everywhere – and she'd convinced Tony to take stronger measures against kidnapping. (He'd created some portable, nasty little techno-surprises to ensure that something like this didn't happen to him again.) All the bad guys had been transferred to a maximum security medical facility and they'd be going to prison from there. They'd obeyed the gag order. The press had moved on quickly from the dust-up over City Hall in order to pounce on a political scandal, so Stark Industries was out of the spotlight for the moment. But still, it had been so close. So much of what happened had hinged on luck and engineering. If just a few things had turned out differently, she might not be standing here at all.

She heard the squeak of sneakers behind her, so she didn't even bother to look. "Hi, Tony."

"Hey. I um, I wanted to give you your rubber band back. What are you doing down here?"

She turned around. Tony was standing there in jeans and a grungy thermal with a hole cut out for his arc reactor, looking at her expectantly. He was probably about to do some tinkering.

"Just looking," she said hastily. She made to leave. He liked his privacy while he messed around with his machines. "I'll go. You work." And she started to click away. He caught her elbow.

"Hey, wait."

Pepper steeled herself. He had that look in his eye, the one that said he knew what she was thinking about. He'd been getting that look far too often lately, in her opinion. "Yes?"

"There's, um…" Tony seemed to choke on the words. Then he pulled himself together. "Look, Pepper, whatever you think happened that day, you did great. You really did. You did the right thing, and I have to say, you did it with flair."

Pepper blinked. Tony was complimenting her on her performance? What parallel universe had she stepped into? They'd really only discussed her superhero doings a few times since the event. As soon as she'd been awake enough to carry on a conversation, he'd chided her gently for frightening him and insisted she never do something so stupid again, and she'd agreed. The next day he'd hinted at being proud of her, and since then he'd teased her about it off and on, but that was it. She bit her lip.

"Really? Because _I_ thought I made a pretty big mess. Plus, I did something illegal by letting Jarvis call in that fake bomb threat, and I saved you guys by the skin of my teeth, and I could have been killed."

There was a pause. Tony scratched his head. "Well, yeah, that's all true. But," he added over her incredulous huff, "_But_, you have to consider the end result. You saved countless lives by evacuating the building. You saved us. You caught the bad guys. And there was a pathetic ten thousand dollars worth of property damage. Hey!" he protested, when she rolled her eyes. "Remember when I took out the Mark III to fight Obie?"

"How could I forget?" she deadpanned.

"Ha ha. Well, if you'll recall, I took out a chunk of the 110 and blew up the factory. Which means that your little piddly-poo ten grand is nothing. It's a drop in the bucket."

He was trying to butter her up, now, convince her of something. She could tell. She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm no hero, Tony. I just got lucky."

He shook his head 'no.' "You didn't get lucky, understand? Jarvis showed me the HUD playback, and I saw what you did. You're a hell of a pilot, Pepper. You're focused, you're tough, you're smart, and you're determined. And you didn't put on that suit for a power trip. You put it on to help people you care about."

Pepper blinked at him. "Your point?"

Tony winced. He was trying to work on not rambling so much. "My point. Okay, here's my point. I wasn't wrong. I didn't make a mistake in building a suit for you. And I think … you should put it back on. When you're ready."

Pepper was stunned speechless, but in a very good way. She turned back towards the Silver Siren armor and chewed on her thumbnail. Tony, sensing it was safe, got up next to her and threw an arm around her. She just stared at the armor and their reflections in the glass and processed for a moment.

"You know, I have to admit. Most of it was terrifying, but in the end," she finished with a guilty smile, "it was really rewarding."

Tony's reflection grinned. "You can ease back into it," he said. "Just start slow. Take it out on Sundays. Fly out over the ocean."

Pepper was turning red. His arm was warm. "Wave at me from the deck?"

Tony chewed on his lip. "Nnn, I was thinking more like a high-speed game of air tag." And before she could stop him, he brushed her hair aside with his free hand and planted a tickly-goatee kiss on her neck. "See ya later, Siren," he mumbled in her ear.

He smoothly untangled himself and sauntered away. Pepper let him go. She stood there alone, thinking, with nothing around her but the displayed suits and the hum of the generators, and eyed the armor for another moment.

"Sunday," she mused. "Hmm. Well, I suppose I can do that."

THE END

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Author's Note: My profound thanks to all the reviewers.

I have one question, and I submit it to everyone who's reading this sentence. This isn't technically my fandom (I'm a Numb3rs girl at present), but I think I have a couple more Iron Man stories in me. Anybody interested?


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